


Teaching Life Lessons

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [60]
Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Evil Plans, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: Crossbones is having some trouble getting used to Avengers Academy. Luckily, his old teacher is here to give him a lesson.





	Teaching Life Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> CW for Student/teacher, though considering how the ages in AvAc are very hazy, I made them kinda close together, and, in my mind, both of legal age. YMMV.
> 
> This is the fourth of four fics I wrote for the Shipping Wars event hosted by avac-keepingupwiththeavengers over on tumblr. Follow us to submit your own ship prompts to be made into art or fic!

The summer sun beat down on Avengers Academy. Brock Rumlow scowled at the oppressive heat, but he ignored it and the way it smudged his face paint. The weather here was much warmer than Hydra Academy’s secret Scandinavian base, and it was just one more change he was forcing himself to get used to now that he’d transferred schools- though hardly the strangest.

In the fighting pit below Rumlow, his old classmate Taskmaster was _tutoring_ one of the Avengers kids, Ms. Marvel. Rumlow glared down at them, sharp eyes taking in every slow, basic drill the pair practiced. The girl’s clothes covered her completely, trapping in heat, and it was getting to her- she kept leaving openings wide enough an AIM scientist could have taken her down. At the Hydra school, she’d have been slammed to the ground a dozen times over by now. Rumlow scoffed when Taskmaster called a pause and actually started explaining to her where she was dropping her guard.

A slight scuff behind him had Rumlow spinning, a handgun up and aimed at a dark figure.

Madame Hydra smirked at him. “You’re going soft,” she chastised him in her cutting drawl.

He snapped the gun back into its holster and turned back to the fight. “Can hardly help it around here,” he grunted. “None of these so-called heroes would last a day at Hydra Academy- or in the real world.”

Madame Hydra- or, Madame Sarkissian, as everyone was calling her nowadays- sat down next to him. “And yet," she countered, "they have defeated us on multiple occasions. Individually, they are vulnerable. Together, they are strong.”

“My team trained _together_ for a year and got taken down in the first wave of these brats in their flashy costumes,” Rumlow seethed. “What the hell do they have that we don’t?”

“That we didn’t,” Madame Sarkissian corrected pointedly. “And you don’t have much ground for criticizing silly costumes.”

Rumlow growled.

Sarkissian ignored him, gazing down at the Avengers below. “I don’t know what quality they have that the students at Hydra Academy do not. Like you, I watch, and I learn.”

“You think we should learn from _them_!”

She raised an eyebrow at his outburst. “If you’re intelligent, you will learn wherever you go. Look at Tony.” She nodded at Taskmaster, who was modelling a piece of footwork for Ms. Marvel. “He acclimates to his environment, and uses his opponents' strengths to his advantage.”

“It’s making him weak,” Rumlow fumed.

“It’s gaining him their trust,” Sarkissian snapped. “Taskmaster is accepted here. The Avengers believe that he wants to be a 'good guy.'”

“He’s acting?” Rumlow squinted, trying to see what his old teacher could see in the session below.

“Oh no, I’m sure he believes it,” she chuckled darkly. “He’s a chameleon. He becomes whatever he needs to become, while retaining his sense of self. That is what we need to do.”

Rumlow looked at her, trying to figure out her game. For the first time, he noticed that she was wearing her hat and long coat despite the heat, and still looked cool and composed. “You want to return to Hydra?”

“Perhaps eventually. For now, this school will do. I have much to learn here, and much to teach.” Sarkissian met his gaze with her cruel dark eyes. “Brock. You were one of the brightest pupils at Hydra Academy. You have so much potential. Your education here will be limited if you cannot adapt to your surroundings.”

Rumlow sneered. “You want me to be like them? Play-acting at fighting, teaching people how to beat me? Defending the cause of kittens and rainbows? I joined this school because they were winning! It doesn’t look like they’re gonna keep winning.”

“I want you to use your brain, if you still have one inside that ridiculous skull,” Sarkissian hissed. “You are on the inside. Stay, go, it doesn’t matter in the end, but consolidate your power now while you have the chance. Make friends, win influence, learn secrets. Get better at fighting. All these skills will help you defeat Captain America when the time comes, if you are still caught up in your silly nemesis game after a few more years of growing up. You have potential and opportunity. Don’t squander them by being childish and stupid.”

Cut by her words, Rumlow fell silent. He thought it over while he continued watching the students below. Ms. Marvel and Taskmaster started their practice bout again, and this time, Ms. Marvel managed to evade Taskmaster’s attack and flip him on his face with only a slight fumble. Then she helped him up.

“Okay,” Rumlow decided. “I’ll act like an Avenger, figure out what their deal is. And then I’ll do whatever’s best for me.”

Sarkissian nodded in satisfaction. "I would expect no less, Brock. I am confident you will be unbeatable one day.”

He frowned. “Do you really think I’m childish? I’m only a few years younger than you.”

She smiled at him. “Age is relative. Yes, you could stand some more maturity. But you’re quite old enough for me.”

Rumlow grinned back and hoped his face paint still looked good. “You gotta lesson for me, ma’am?”

“Certainly.” Sarkissian’s smile grew to show her teeth. “Let’s retire to my classroom. If you’re good, I’ll show you my whip.”


End file.
